


Speed²

by VZG



Category: Speed Racer (2008)
Genre: Bondage, Clone Sex, Clones, Coercion, Crack, Dubious Consent, Infidelity, Kidnapping, M/M, selfcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-03
Updated: 2008-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:53:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VZG/pseuds/VZG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Speed encounters his strangest opponent yet: himself. Speed/Speed</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speed²

It was hardly the first time Speed had been kidnapped. Hell, he had celebrated his twenty-first birthday with his captors; he told that story at parties later, and by the time he got to the part where the strippers had stolen the muscle's pants, everyone was cracking up.

He'd been blindfolded and bound, too. He'd been kidnapped in every sort of way, really; he'd been knocked out, locked up, drugged, tricked, trapped, and dragged from the racetrack with a red sock in his mouth to keep him from screaming.

It really didn't bother him to be kidnapped any more. He knew that, soon enough, Racer X or Inspector Detector — or even Trixie or Pops — would show up and he'd be out of the place by sundown. So he sat, not in the least curious about who his captors were or where he was, humming to himself and trying to decide what he would have to eat later.

He sat on some surface that was plush and cushy, which, he had to admit, seemed a little odd. Normally when the blindfold was removed he'd find himself under a bare lightbulb in an almost-empty warehouse sitting on wooden chair. Sometimes the worst part of a kidnapping was when he couldn't sleep the next night for the pain in his back.

It wasn't the most comfortable kidnapping ever, though. He didn't like the lack of noise around him; he couldn't count his captors or judge the size of the room or anything. Actually, the most comfortable kidnapping had been when the Countess Zemed had stolen him away to her personal quarters; she'd had her servants feed him and set him on a comfortable bed. It had been great, in fact, until she tried to seduce him.

"At least this time I'm not naked," he said to himself, just to break the silence.

"What was that?"

He jumped, his elbows knocking together as he pulled unconsciously at whatever was tied around his wrists — not rope, it was too soft for rope... "Sorry. I thought I was alone."

"Sorry?" The voice sounded strangely familiar, but he couldn't place it. "You're actually apologizing to the people kidnapping you? Some backbone you've got there, Speed."

"Sorry." There was another moment of silence. "So, um, do I know you?"

"I'll say." He heard a slightly rustling; the floor creaked. "Let me guess: you have no idea what this is about, right?"

Speed shrugged. "I'm not really worried about that."

He heard a _tsk_ and a low laugh. "You really shouldn't let your guard down like that, Speed. Who knows when you'll meet your match?"

"No offense, sir, but you hardly sound menacing. You haven't even threatened my life." Okay, maybe that was pushing it, but Speed wasn't about to back down to a challenge like that.

"I don't want your life."

"Then what is it? Money? Do you want me to promise to lose my next race?" The very thought put him on edge — he'd never promise it. Ever.

"What would be the use of that?"

Speed frowned. "Then why did you kidnap me?"

Another low laugh. "I didn't kidnap you. I'm just— Wait, here." There were hands on his face, deftly untying his blindfold, and he could see again. He could see—

Himself.

The room was just as comfortable as his seat felt; he was on a purple couch that he almost recognized, in a richly-furnished apartment of some sort. The walls were adorned with all sorts of art and pictures of races; the Mach 6 showed up in several of them. There was a bar in one corner, and a huge flatscreen TV nearby. Against another wall there was a bed larger than any he'd seen before, half-covered in pillows as big as the driver's seat of his car.

And in the center of it all was a mirror. It had to be a mirror. It couldn't be—

"Like what you see?" the man said, grinning predatorily.

He was an exact copy of Speed himself, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Or Speed assumed his toes looked the same; he was currently wearing a purple suit, much like the one Royalton had gifted him with years before. The only thing that was different was his expression, one he couldn't even imagine on his own face. It reminded him of the way Royalton had looked at him, a look he sometimes saw on Trixie, but he couldn't put a meaning to it.

"You're catching flies," the copy said, rolling his eyes.

Speed snapped his jaw shut, trying to clear his mind, but a moment later he opened his mouth again to ask, "How...?"

The copy sighed, sitting down beside him, throwing his arms up over the back of the couch. "Do you really want to know? It's a boring story."

"Of course I do! It's not like copies of me show up every day."

"Clone," he corrected. He paused a moment, then stood up and began pacing. "As I understand it, some years ago you and Arnold — that is, Mr. Royalton — went head-to-head. You... _exchanged_ this suit. Since he was no longer in the racing industry, he had to devote that portion of his finances to something else."

He stopped, and held out his arms, presenting himself to Speed.

"And so, me. Some doctors, some scientists, and a lot of money later, and a hair and a few skin cells taken from this suit became an entire embryo. And as it turned out, the engines he'd been constructing weren't so far from cell acceleraters as you might think. Not the most humble beginnings to come from, but I've got no complaints."

Speed furrowed his brow. "I don't understand. I didn't think—"

"Look, Speed," the clone said, holding up a hand to stop him, "I'm only as smart as you at your best, and even the most intensive study sessions haven't gotten me further than that. You're going to have to ask Arnold himself if you want a better explanation."

There were still too many questions. "Why?"

The clone's grin changed slowly, secretive and superior at the same time. "It's strange to think I could be so naive."

Speed suddenly felt uncomfortable, shifting. He didn't respond.

The clone fingered the collar of the suit, staring over Speed's head and out the window at the darkening sky. "You know, all he ever really wanted was you, Speed."

"I know, he wanted me to—"

The clone cut him off. "No, not for racing. He wanted _you_. So he made me. I became you for him once he got out of jail; I couldn't race, because I had no way to get into the world and into a car. I never even learned to drive. So I did what he created me for, and I did it to the best of my ability."

The confused look didn't leave Speed's face; his clone rolled his eyes again, becoming frustrated.

" _Sex_ , idiot. He wanted you _for sex_." He smiled again at the expression Speed knew he must have been wearing: horrified, or shocked, or something close to the two. "And, for the record, you're very good at it. Probably as good, with some practice, as you are at racing cars.

"But I'm not enough anymore. I probably never was. He wanted you, and everything that makes you who you are: your naive smile, your dedication to what you believe in and your family, your authentic youth. And that's why you're here now. I've just been waiting with you. I think we're in for a threesome."

"A three—?" Speed choked out, eyes wide. That had certainly never been a part of the kidnapping equation before. "No. I won't. X will be here any minute—"

"No, he won't," the clone said, circling the couch and putting his hands on either side of Speed's shoulders. "Your knight in shining armor isn't coming this time, Speed. Royalton's been playing it straight for years; no one's going to suspect a thing this time around."

He moved his hands closer, and Speed closed himself in as best he could; he couldn't stand, though, with his ankles tied together, and couldn't fend off the hands as they fell onto his shoulders, massaging slowly, as his own were similarly bound. He shuddered under the touch; it disturbed him, in a way, and in another it felt good. His clone seemed almost to be forcing him to relax, tension in his muscles from sitting there, tied up, melting away as those fingers rubbed in slow circles.

"It's not a bad life, you know. I have pretty much everything I want. And, until he decided he needed the _real_ Speed Racer, Arnold and I had a very active sex life. At times it was very, very good." His hands stilled a moment. "At times."

"Um." Once again aware of the awkwardness of the situation, Speed wiggled slightly, trying to get away from his clone. "I'm sure it's, uh, great. If you're willing."

The clone made a _hmmm_ sound, moving back to the front of the couch. "He can be very romantic, Speed. I don't think he'll do a thing to you that you don't want — and sooner or later, you'll want it."

"I'd never want somoene who kidnapped me. Or threatened my life." Wait, there was something else, too — something important. Oh! "I have a girlfriend."

"Huh. Trixie, right?" The clone's knees bumped his, too close and in his face. "I remember Arnold saying that he thought she was your sister from the way you acted with her."

"I love her," Speed insisted.

The clone didn't respond — he just dropped to his knees. Inexplicably, a shiver went up Speed's spine, and he braced himself — but the clone's hands stayed below his knees, toying with the cloth tied around his ankles. It was purple. "You'd probably prefer to have this off, right?"

He didn't wait for an answer, untying him quickly. Speed realized he might have tied those knots himself in the first place. As soon as he felt the hold on his legs gone, his knees fell apart. He hadn't realized how much he'd wanted to stretch his legs.

But the clone didn't move. "Are you even attracted to her?"

"What?" Speed asked, trying not-so-subtley to nudge the clone away. He wouldn't budge.

"Do you find her hot? Sexy? Has she ever _seduced_ you?"

"Se— seduced? She's my girlfriend. She doesn't need to seduce me— _ee_!" He jumped, trying to escape the hand that was suddenly far too close to his crotch. "What are you doing?"

"Seeing how dedicated to her you are," the clone said, and without another word he put his face on Speed's other thigh, nuzzling. "And showing you what you're missing."

He couldn't help it; as the clone's right hand brushed over the front of his pants, his cock jumped, his back arching slightly towards the touch. "Stop! This is — not right. You're _me_."

"Then it'd just be masturbation, right?" the clone said, not lifting his head. He breathed over Speed's fly, running a finger around the outline of his cock. "You have masturbated, right? Wait — don't answer that."

"I _have_ ," Speed hissed, trying to fight the sensation of the too-familiar touch.

"Then what's wrong?" The clone's free hand stroked the inside of his right leg, and even _that_ was distracting. "Is it not _romantic_ enough for you?"

Speed couldn't respond; he was afraid his voice might betray him, so he clenched his jaw shut almost painfully. It was wrong, wrong, so wrong...

And then his clone's lips were on his, and he had to wonder if his own lips were that soft. The hand on his pants was working them open, pulling down his fly, stroking him through his boxers while the other hand moved up to his thigh. He was getting hard, it was all he could do to not respond, to stay still against the onslaught of heat and slow, sensual movements.

"Stop fighting it," the clone murmured against his lips. "Stop thinking about how wrong it is. Just go with it."

Speed remained still, but when the band of his boxers was pushed down with his pants just enough for his erection to pop out and that hand curled around it, he couldn't help but buck up. A tongue ran across his lips, and the clone peppered light kisses across his cheek, biting his earlobe. It was that — his ear — that did it, and he moaned, his lips parting just slightly. He could feel his clone's lips against his neck, that smug, victorious grin.

But he didn't care anymore.

He turned his face toward the one that mirrored his own, kissing him as best he could. His hands itched to reach up, to grab handfuls of hair and pull them closer together, but his wrists remained bound. The clone laughed against his lips and did it for him, and it was like his own fingers running through his hair, their placement backwards but still so familiar.

And then the lips were gone and the hands were on his arms, the clone pulling him up, away from the couch and toward the bed. It gave him a moment of clarity, a chance to say "no," but before he could find the breath to do it he was pushed back and covered with the body that was the same as his own.

The bed was huge, and he sank into it slightly as he was pressed down and straddled. He could feel and then see the clone's hard-on, finally; they seemed to be equally aroused, but the other was far more open about it, grinding himself against Speed's groin wantonly.

"Do you want this? Can the _real_ Speed Racer let go like I can?" the clone hissed in his ear as he arched up, pressing them together.

He meant to say no, like he'd intended to before, but without consulting his mind he found his voice betraying him, gasping out a "yes" that was followed with a thrust up.

The clone slide off him, catching the waistband of his pants and his boxers as he went, sweeping them off. He unbuttoned his own pants, but did not remove them, letting them fall just below his hips. He kept the rest of the suit on as well, drawing from the breast pocket a small tube. He squeezed something Speed couldn't really recognize onto his hand, though it looked like lotion, and stroked himself a few times with it. His other hand pushed Speed's leg up, running up and down it, and then he paused.

"You've never done anything like this." It wasn't a question; the clone frowned. "Of course not. I'll bet you and Trixie are about as vanilla as they come."

Speed averted his eyes momentarily; it wasn't just the mention of her, but the fact that they hadn't actually really _done_ this, in any way. Not that they hadn't pleased each other, but they were moving slow, and—

There was a tongue on his ass.

He jumped, struggling to sit up; with his hands bound it was impossible, so he craned his neck up, trying to see what was up. The clone was on his knees, pushing Speed's legs apart and licking, biting the flesh, running his tongue over his balls and then down, down, over—

"Jeez!" he said, wiggling, trying to move away. That was _more_ wrong, so wrong — he _couldn't_ do that to himself, had never even dreamed of doing it to anyone or having it done to himself. Hell, he hadn't even _heard_ of people really doing it.

"Relax," the clone said, pulling his ass back toward the edge of the bed. He stopped, then pushed Speed's hips, rolling him over onto his stomach, promting him to groan as his cock finally something to rub against. He parted Speed's ass cheeks, running his tongue in a circle around his hole. His fingers dug into skin; they were likely to leave marks, red and telling. Speed wiggled, trying to move away again, and then—

The clone pushed his tongue in, just slightly past that first ring of muscle, and in a normal state Speed might have thought it was disgusting, but his cock was hard against the covers of the bed and he pushed back, thinking instead _Oh God, Oh God._

And just as he was starting to enjoy it the tongue was gone, replaced by a finger covered in something cold and slick, and then another. It hurt for a moment, but the fingers were still, and when the other hand reached underneath him to stroke his cock, he moaned into the bed. He could feel himself relaxing, focusing on the hand on his dick instead of the fingers in his ass as they started to move in and out, and suddenly they felt good. There was another finger, and then they were both gone, and there were hands on the back of his shoulder and knees on either side of his legs, and something that was most definitely _not_ a finger pressing in to him—

"Oh God," he gasped, muffled into the covers. The clone pushed in slowly, and he knew that in his hand he'd never felt that big, but it hurt. It hurt and he couldn't imagine why anyone would want it, especially a clone of himself, who couldn't _possibly_ be built for being fucked. He took a deep breath and let it out slow, but even as he relaxed the burn didn't go away. He mind darted around, trying to ignore the pain, and hit something. "Did you— condom?"

His clone laughed, deeper and throaty than he normally did, and thrust in the rest of the way, his balls against Speed's ass. "I'm clean. Arnold's clean. I'm _sure_ you're clean. Why bother?"

Speed knew there was a good argument against that, but as his clone pulled almost all the way out again he couldn't think of it. He grunted, wanting to beg for them to stop, but he couldn't find his voice any more.

And then he thrust in again, hitting something Speed couldn't place, and it changed. "Oh," he said, like a realization, writhing; it was _amazing_ , and the pain mixed in with the pleasure in a way he didn't recognize, because they weren't supposed to be the same but it was so very good.

"Great, isn't it?" the clone asked, and picked up the pace of his thrusts, grunted every now and then and angling himself, judging his position by the way Speed writhed. He was ruthless, thrusting hard and quick and taking no time for sentimentality. He kept one hand by Speed's shoulder to prop himself up, snaking the other beneath him to stroke as best as he could, but it was the friction against the bed as Speed writhed and the senesation of the clone's dick against his prostate that did him in. It built up like a ball of fire in him, travelling down from his chest and up from his toes, centering in his groin. His toes curled and his hands fisted into the blankets, and he had to bite his lip from crying out as he came into the bed.

It was like a signal, because the next moment the door to the room slammed open, and Speed felt so boneless he couldn't even look up to see who it was, whether it was Royalton come to ruin the moment or the inspector and X to rescue him. He spared a moment for mortification, turning bright red and tensing slightly, and whatever that did to the muscles in his ass seemed to work for the clone, who came with a shout a moment later. In the back of his mind, he worried about latent exhibitionist tendencies.

"Speed!" he heard Detector shout, and he turned his head to look at the door. He could see X's back, his shoulders hunched slightly as the other racer looked away, and Detector just stared, his jaw hanging open.

Speed was pretty sure it was the most embarrassing moment of his life.

The clone stood, pulling out of him and buttoning up his pants.

"You called?"

 

\---

"Royalton had nothing to do with it," Detector said, far away from Royalton's apartment as Speed sat with a glass of water, trying to put everything together in his head.

"What do you mean?" Speed asked, unable to keep the anger from his voice. The inspector looked somehow _guilty_ , a look he'd been wearing since he handed Speed his pants. "He kidnapped me!"

"That's the thing," Detector said, not meeting his eyes. "It was the clone, actually. Royalton has alibis, and some of his guards admitted that he wasn't the one who told them to take you."

"Then who was it?"

"It was the... clone." Detector had been greatly unsettled by the clone's presence, eyeing him warily in a way Speed didn't think was just because he'd caught him with his pants down. "We think he might have been using you as a... as a _gift_."

"Oh." Speed wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that. "What's going to happen to him?"

"Well, he'll see trial, and then most likely wind up in jail."

Speed imagined himself in jail. He didn't think it suited either of them — not that he was about to argue. "And after?"

The inspector looked surprised by that. "Well, I— I don't know. I suppose he's as free to go out on his own as anyone. He may go back to Royalton."

There were a lot more questions to ask, but Speed had the feeling Detector didn't have answers for most of them. He nodded, putting his glass down on the table of the Racer kitchen. "Um. Thank you, Detector."

The Detector gave him a tight, strained smile, patting him on the shoulder as he stood. He moved as if he was going to leave, and then stopped. "One more thing— there were cameras in the room."

Speed's eyebrows shot up. "You mean—?"

"The disc is on your bed. It's up to you to destroy it, if you'd like, or it could be used as evidence. I don't want to push you to display it if you don't feel comfortable with that. I think we probably have enough in other evidence and confessions to put him away anyway."

With one more pat to his shoulder, the Detector left, and Speed felt a strange sensation in his stomach.

The disc never saw trial, and Speed held Trixie's hand throughout it. He didn't look once at his clone.

He also did not destroy the disc.

**Author's Note:**

> And everyone conveniently ignored the fact that unauthorized cloning of an individual is at best a terrible ethics issue, the end.


End file.
